miosis
by bells-mannequin
Summary: "How can you prove that you don't love me?" — in which Lily tries very hard and is very not successful, James asks questions and and insists, and growing up happens eventually. LilyJames, all the way.


_how do you want to prove that you don't love me?_

* * *

><p><strong>miosis<br>**

* * *

><p>„Do you love me?"<p>

Lily stays silent, one second, two seconds, three minutes. Then she shakes her head. In her eyes there is this _Something_, this whirr that prevents him from forgetting her and at least letting a new part arise.

"Didn't expect anything else from you, Evans," James grins lopsidedly and walks at a brisk pace towards Moony who has observed the scene, headshaking.

"Watch out, Lily."

She turns her head, not fast enough to see, not slow enough to not see, her red locks fly, float, grow heavier, fall. Remus watches her seriously, with his attentive, thoughtful eyes. She nods slightly. "Yes."

She walks through the corridor, aware of James glowing glance, so full of love, following her.

She knows it. She is not stupid.

Even so, she can't.

/-/

The sun shines through the high hallways, lets her deep red hair shimmer golden. "I love you."

_Do you, James?_

"I don't believe you."

Looks, long, infinite, perfect.

_Lies._

"So, how am I supposed to change that, Lily?"

She shrugs her small shoulders. "Surprise me, Potter."

Then he is suddenly _there_, this stupid, big, crude prat, and stands so very close in front of her, smiles his golden-gryffindor-boy smile, that melts so many away. Just this smile. _A whole world_. It surprises her.

_Please_, she thinks. _Don't._

"Touché," she says.

/-/

Tangerine-skins. Lily frowns, than smells at them, the tender-sweet scent. "Oranges are better."

He holds a orange out to her, his fingernails are short and clean. Quidditch-player-hands?

"Why?"

"My sister loved tangerines."

"Loved?"

"She's dead."

"I don't believe you."

"For me, she's dead."

Soft butterfly's wings, a wisp of wind, a wisp of love. "There was something in your hair."  
>James leaves her with singing heart and mute mouth, takes his broom and gets ready to go out into the windy autumn evening.<br>"Wanna come?"  
>Hesitation around her mouth, wanting in her eyes, tangerine-skins in mind, orange-skins between fingers. The smell of oranges is stronger, and much, much fresher. <em>James.<em>

"Yes."

/-/

She does not dare to touch him, does not dare to breathe. Perhaps it's fear, or perhaps it's anticipation. The air is cold and clear, so clear. _Freedom_.

He turns around, his innermost outwards, friendship, devotion, fear, hate and always, always the wish for being allowed to love her. James' eyes are soft. It is so much better than everything else before.

Abruptly the cold wind comes, says_ Farewell_ to this day's sun, envelops her, lets her smile _this _smile, just _so_, her emerald green eyes full with the glow of the sun. "I'm cold", she says quietly, finally. "Bring me back to the castle, Potter."

Potter, Potter, Potter—over and over. She shakes her head.

/-/

"Well, Potter? Don't you have a—joke, or something?"

"I didn't enjoy this day." His grin is more in his eyes than anything. "That was a lie."

"Lying is sometimes better for one's salvation, Potter." Who knows the difference anyways?  
>James raises his head and Lily, too, looks upwards.<p>

"Want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

"No."

"Liar."

Lily squares her shoulders. "We all have our own little mistakes." _And your biggest is to love._

He looks at her, all insolence. Lily shakes her head. "No."

/-/

"Describe me with one word."

"Mean."

"Intelligent."

"Beautiful."

"Love."

James smiles crookedly, Sirius grins, serious, not serious, she doesn't know, in Peter's eyes is admiration. Remus' eyes are warm. _Intelligent you are, Lily_. "But also stupid."

Lily approves: "I know." A short glance to James, far too short, far too long. "By the way, the Yule Ball scheduled."

The Marauders never have been ones to hide their nosiness.

"I'll go with David."

James laughs. "We all have our own little mistakes."

Lily doesn't know what he means and if she knew, she wouldn't want to know. She clears her throat. "D-…dumbledore waits. See you later."

/-/

The champagne-coloured dress is a dream. She always wanted a dress that would spin and twirl and she also dreamed about the right guy, matching the dress. It's why she knows so bloody well that it isn't him that she wishes for—Lily is not stupid. James sits in a corner, laughing with Remus, Peter and Sirius who also didn't invite a girl to the ball out of fraternity, instead having a nice Marauders' night with much, much Firewhiskey and muggle vodka. Her lips taste like pomegranate because of the lipstick dear Ida made for her.

She smiles at David. He says: "You look gorgeous, Lily." And it is all in his eyes to see: he tries to deceive himself. She asks: "Is it Tanya?"

In the middle of the dance floor, best location for school drama, David comes to a halt. "Sirius."

Lily laughs, bitter. _Sweet-sour oranges. Bitter ones. _"He definitely doesn't fancy boys."

"That doesn't change my feelings."

She sighs. "I know." There the dance ends and she sweeps a little curtsy, smiles, there's resignation in his eyes, happy, unhappy, she doesn't understand it. "Still, ask Tanya for a dance. She's very in love with you." She embraces him, and it's goodbye and sympathy and tenderness. When she looks up, she sees James' eyes straightaway. Brown. No special colour.

But he is, after all, special enough himself.

/-/

"Pretty cold here, eh?"

"Pretty lame pick-up-line, eh?"

James buries his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He shrugs. "Well, it _is_ cold."

She throws him a look. His changed clothes, his unruly hair, his glasses. "Who walks around in a T-shirt …" she murmurs.

"And who walks around in a totally inappropriate dress …?"

"… is just as stupid."

"You look beautiful."

"You, too." She imagines how it would be, if it were to start snowing.

"Want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

There isn't a new appointment scheduled yet. "Yes." _I'd like that, I think_.  
>His eyes are breathtaking.<br>"Thanks, Lily."

_Thanks, James._

_/-/  
><em>

James' body is warm, his scent soothing, lulling.

"Are they actually together now?" No one can answer Sirius' question, most of all James, least of all Lily. Yes, no, yes, no, yes, no. Yesyesyes. Nonono. James kisses her and no one in the Common Room cares anymore. Soundless sighs. Of course he heard. "No," she says.

He replies: "I know." And kisses her again, and maybe she feels even more than before.  
>Maybe.<p>

/-/

"Do you love me?" The morning is warm, the sun friendly. Perfect Quidditch-weather. Since they go out, Lily thinks like this. _Mad world_. She snuggles up to his torso, and even though he is usually a morning grouch, she feels the tickling alertness in his timbre.

"No," she makes.

"I know." Lily hears the smile in his voice.

"And?"

"What—_and_?"

He kisses her full on the mouth and she doesn't know what it is, but she enjoys this kiss more than all the foregone—if that is possible. "I love you anyways."

/-/

Lily and James stand in front of the whole Hogwarts pack, smile, are cheerful, talk about old times, knowing that they _don't _know what lies in their futures.

"And, what now?"

"What do _you_ do?"

The Marauders view all of it, then they say: "Auror."

Lily raises an eyebrow: "Wormtail?"

"My father is a half-blood. I have to something against it."

Remus watches her expectantly. Lily smiles, clipped. "Auror."

"Is that your decision or Voldemort's?"

"It is yours?" They don't answer. "_I_ cannot distinguish anymore. It's not my wish to be an Auror, but the circumstances expect it and I do have the best qualifications for it."

"You alright?" Sirius' laconic nature is strangely comforting.

"I have to," she smiles weakly. But there's this braveness in her eyes, and suddenly it's obvious why the Hat sent her to brash Gryffindor and not to smart Ravenclaw.  
>James puts an arm around her shoulder, and somehow they know that they'll make it. <em>One way or the other<em>.

/-/

"Do you want to move in?"

Lily stiffens, the warm summer breeze slips into her hair. Dread, knowledge, infinite feelings. She nods. "Yes … I'd like that."  
>James has learnt with the years to restrain himself a little bit. He smiles warmly. "Do you love me?" His hand grabs her chin softly, raises it, light. With the years the whirring in her eyes has grown stronger, the line of her mouth more determined, Lily herself more tenacious, softer, lovelier. More focused. She softly shakes her head. One second, two seconds, three minutes.<p>

He clasps her face featherlike for a tingling kiss. "Didn't expect anything else from you, Evans." Another kiss. "But as long you can't prove me that you don't love me, I'll stay."  
>Crying. Tears. How else can you describe it? Happiness? Love? <em>Eternal<em>.  
>She turns around, brushes the tears away from her dainty face. "Thank you, James," she sobs.<p>

"Thank _you_, Lily."

A quizzical glance, an insolent grin.  
>"Someday you <em>will <em>say that you love me." _Orange-skins … _"I _know _that you love me and I wont give up, so …"

She jumps into his arms, drenched in tears.

"Marry me, James."

* * *

><p>For the emancipation of women, hell yeah! :D<p>

**Disclaimer** on my profile; **reviews** would be lovely; English is not my first language; **miosis** is "the reflex contraction of the sphincter muscle of the iris in response to a bright light causing the pupil to become smaller" (source: thefreedictionary) - I chose the title because this OS has this particularly light-feeling in it. I don't know. An alternative title would be: Lichteinfall, which is German for "light incident"/"incidence of light" :)

Also, the first sentence, thanks to Herrn K., because without him this story wouldn't exist. (Has anyone else thought about the fact that you cannot prove what's not there? You can prove all that is there, but not what's not. That's pretty awesome, I think ^^

Thanks for reading,

bells-mannequin


End file.
